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Samson's Island
Note: Play some background music at the bottom of the page for the best expirience. Prolouge: When stranded, defenseless, vulnerable, within the grasp of isanity, what would you do? 8/8/13 I'm excited to go camping. It's just something I like to do. I go camping every month. But this trip, me and my friend Luke are going to sail to an island just off-shore of where we live. Samson's Island. 8/9/13 After we made sure we had everything, we untied the boat from the dock, and began sailing. It was a beautiful day. Barely a cloud in the sky. But when looking in the sky, I saw something. It was a plane. I pointed it out to my friend, and he said it was a gunship. The plane kept circling the island for about 2 more hours and then left. I just don't know what to think about it. It looks like Luke needs help setting up camp. I'll write later. 8/10/13 ''' Day one. Since we had gotten a good night's rest, we thougt we would explore a bit. We did just that. At one point along the road, we found a perfectly circle open area among the trees. All the trees' branches bended towards the center of the area. I thought that was odd because plants usually grow towards the sun. We thought nothing else of it and just carried on. We crossed a wooden bridge, going over a river. The river was so calm. Soon after, we discovered a fork in the road. Luke took left, I took right. After approximently 10 seconds of walking down my path, I heard Luke yelling. I turned around to see him running back the way we came. We both had walkie talkies so I decided to talk to him over it. I asked him what happened. It took a few seconds to respond but he told me he couldn't quite tell me in detail. We met at the bridge and he told me that he saw some sort of black, humanoid blob thing for a tenth of a second, followed by a buzzing sound. I told him he could have been seeing things and the buzzing could have been a bee or a wasp. There are lot of bugs on this island after all. He thought it sounded logical and we kept walking. After a mile or two, we started heading back. '''8/11/13 Day two. When I woke up this morning, I saw that Luke was cooking breakfast already. We said good morning to each other and then he said I had something on my face. I rubbed my finger against my cheek and saw that there was a black liquid on my face. It had the same consistency as oil. I used a towel to wipe the rest of it off my face. But while doing so I realized the top of my arm was cut. After patching up my arm, we ate breakfast. Toast and eggs, Delicious. We decided to take an alternate route than the one we took yesterday. We tested our walkie talkies and every time one of us talked through them, a they made a slight static noise. But they still functioned. We stumbled upon an outhouse, not one of those wooden ones. I opened the door to see a black humanoid figure standing there. I immediately closed the door. My friend asked what the matter was. I opened the door again to see it was no longer there. I told him I saw the blob. We got creeped out. We decided to keep moving. We reached a sandy open area with bushes here and there followed by a dead end. Just then, I heard a buzzing sound. We ran. We ran a fast as we could for about a fourth of a mile. We collected ourselves and began walking back. When we came back to the outhouse, things really started to get weird. When I walked up to the door, I noticed something very wrong. The doorknob was gone. Even weirder was that despite not having the doorknob, the door now refused to budge. We left and got back to camp. 8/12/13 Day three. I was the first one to wake up this morning. When Luke woke up, I noticed that he had the same oily substance on his face. He also had little cuts on his fingers. Since he was in no condition to cook, a cooked breakfast. Pancakes. I've had worse. We tested the walkie talkies again and this time, the static was louder. Still not loud enough the drown out our voices. This time we took the shotgun from our boat. We walked on the trail we took the first day for about three miles. Actually, nothing weird happened. Did the shotgun sacre that guy off? It must have. But when we came back to camp, the gear in our tent was completely trashed. When we looked, nothing had been stolen. We then decided that when we sleep, we'd take shifts on guard duty. 8/13/13 Day four. Nothing unusual happened last night according to the both of us. Breakfast that morning was eggs and bacon. Best meal yet. But when we tested our walkie talkies, they actually seized to function. We then knew we needed to stay together. We walked along the road more, when we reahced another dead-end, we turned around to see the blob. But we didn't see him for a split second. He was standing there. I took the shotgun and fired at it. It disappeared. We hurried back to camp, and saw that our tent had the word "death" written repeatedly all over it in blood. Since our tent is ruined wer'e going to sleep under the stars for tonight. 8/14/13 Day five. We actually were all out of food. We didn't pack enough. We just decided to hang at camp the whole day. It was Luke's shift when I woke up, so he kept the shotgun. Right around sunset, me and Luke were just about to drift off to sleep when suddenly we heard a bang out in the distance. It came from the docks. He scurried over to the docks to see to our terror that our boat was on fire! We heard the buzzing noise again. I yelled at Luke to do something. He stood there staring at the flame-engulfed boat. I yelled again and he still didn't respond. I yelled a third time and he truned around, expressionless. I asked Luke if he was alright. No answer. I yelled at him to listen to me. To my horror, he put the shotgun to his chin and pulled the trigger. Luke collapsed to ground dead. Now here I am, trapped here on this wasteland. Trying not to sleep. I can't sleep. I can't sleep. 8/15/13 To anyone who finds this, get out of here now. If you stay too long he will find you. It is too late for me. I will soon die one way or another. Whether of starvation or if that thing kills me. Just save yourself now. Before it's too late. Epilouge: Thomas's journal was found on Samson's Island 2 days after the last entry. Only Luke's body was found. The only boat on the dock was fully intact. Explanation for the strange occurances is still not known. All that could be learned is that the island was not given a marker. If it did have a marker, it would be marker island 616. '' '' Category:Creepypasta Category:Creepypastas Category:Real Life Category:Original Story Category:Journal